


delirium

by erzi



Category: ACCA13区監察課 | ACCA 13-ku Kansatsuka
Genre: BIG time ep 11 spoilers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 22:24:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10423107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erzi/pseuds/erzi
Summary: He breaks into a run. At that moment, he is nothing but madly pumping legs and arms, a panicked heartbeat, a voice screaming in his head to hurry,hurry.





	

**Author's Note:**

> basically 'what if jean had gotten shot after all instead of nino.' boy i love to suffer

Nino sees the stranger raise his arms, the gold of the gun glinting even in the dark.

He breaks into a run. At that moment, he is nothing but madly pumping legs and arms, a panicked heartbeat, a voice screaming in his head to hurry, _hurry._

His feet beat the ground, pat-pat-patting the dust, this fucking _dust_ , it makes him fumble, just a fraction of a _fraction_ of a moment, but that's lost time in a race against a bullet that can travel much faster than he. And why hasn't Jean _noticed_ _;_ Jean, who noticed him watching from a goddamn mountain, can't see there's someone right there with an intent to kill him.

Nino's reached him, somehow, thank fuck, and he yells that name he loves so well, hand stretching as far as he can, pushing Jean as two quick bangs reverberate.

They fall together, and Nino is expecting the pain of the gunshots to hit him now.

But it doesn't. Just a dull throb from where he landed. And he thinks, _M_ _aybe I'm in shock, maybe this is one of those instances where the pain is so great you feel nothing_ _, God please let it be that-_

Liquid warm and thick seeps into him. Not from. Into.

_Oh no. No._

He glances down at Jean, lying beneath him. And in his stomach bloom twin flowers, too red, too large, too cruel.

He'd been too late.

"No," he says, throat, chest tight, "no, no, _no_ \- Jean? Jean?"

The men that had been with Jean are yelling for an ambulance, and one attempts to get Nino off Jean, demanding to know who he is. Nino wrestles free from the hold, keeping his ground, never tearing his eyes from Jean.

Jean's breathing is shallow, and he's wheezing, wincing.

It's better than no movement at all.

Someone else tries to grab Nino. He wheels around, about to snap, but Jean manages to cough out, "He stays." Whoever grabbed Nino lets go, reluctantly obeying.

Nino quickly unwraps his headscarf, and with his teeth tears it in two. He bundles them and applies pressure to the wounds. Jean cries out.

"I'm sorry," Nino croaks. For the pain. For not being there in time. For not acting sooner. "I'm so sorry, Jean."

 _It should have been me_ , he thinks.

What he wouldn't do to trade places. He would willingly make Jean's pain his own. Any day. Always.

 _You can't_ _leave me_ _, Jean,_ he thinks, or maybe he does speak it out loud, because Jean just _looks_ at him. He isn't sure. He doesn't care.

The scarves are thick with blood. The red drinks up the cloth.

The loud wailing of an ambulance, approaching, finally. Paramedics taking Jean.

"I'm going with you," he tells them, in a tone that they listen to.

He climbs in the back with them. Sees them put an IV and oxygen mask on Jean. Sees them properly dress the wounds. Sees how weak and pale this power of a person is. He swallows.

Jean is dazed, likely not here mentally, and yet Nino can't stop speaking to him. Tells him to hold on. That he'll be treated soon, that they're almost there, that the pain will stop – comforting, probable lies. He isn't sure. He doesn't care.

He holds his hand. And apologizes, once every sentence. The word 'sorry' would lose all meaning if it didn't burn so hotly within Nino.

Then, the hospital. They rush Jean to surgery, and force Nino to stay behind. He slumps, defeated, in a chair. He looks at his hands and at his shirt, smeared with blood that wasn't his own but that he fervently wishes was.

He gets up only once, to wash his hands. The rest of the time – however long it is, but it's too long – he sits, disoriented and numb.

A surgeon arrives, and Nino's insides churn, expecting the worst, hoping for the best.

"He made it," the surgeon says. "He's awake now, in room 211-"

Nino doesn't hear the rest of the sentence.

The ACCA people from Furawau are there, talking quietly to Jean. It's absurd, but anger flashes through Nino. They were told before him. Them, who have known Jean for mere hours. Who did nothing to prevent this.

They wrap up their conversation with Jean, turn, and see Nino. They nod curtly, perhaps having seen the annoyance on his face, and step out. Now it's Nino and Jean and all the things he's hooked up to. They beep and hum, but Nino doesn't register them, his own loud heartbeat at his ears.

Nino steps closer, taking a seat next to Jean. He steeples his hands together, closing his eyes behind them, shakily, quietly exhaling. And then he looks at Jean, hoping the other can't see how wet his eyes are.

There is tiredness etched in Jean's face. His eyes are droopier than normal. But he manages a tiny, brief smile.

"You saved me," he rasps.

 _No._ Nino's jaw clenches. "I let you get shot."

"You pushed me. Changed how the bullets hit." Jean points at his bandaged chest. "The surgeon told me if they had hit just a few centimeters left..." He trails off, the meaning implicit.

For a minute, neither says anything.

Jean is the one who breaks the silence. "How many times now?"

"How many times what?"

"How many times have you helped me from the shadows?"

Nino is silent. And then he says, "Many times."

Jean lets his head softly hit the pillow. "Dangerous work you do."

"It's worth it to me." He says it quietly.

"I know," Jean says, with this _smile_. "Thank you, Nino."

God. With the backs of his hands, he rubs his eyes. His voice is thick when he says, "Of course." And then he dares to ask, "Did you tell them who I was?"

"Yes."

"What did you say?"

"That you were someone important."

"To ACCA?"

Jean shakes his head. "To me."

His job's best form of payment wasn't in currency.

Jean sighs. "I'm going to sleep," he mumbles, closing his eyes.

"I'll be here," Nino says. Would he ever.


End file.
